Home for the (Non-Denominational) Holidays
by WinterSky101
Summary: The time for the Les Amis Non-Denominational Winter Party has come again, and this year, Enjolras is hosting. This should be interesting. Modern AU.


**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate Christmas!**

**This fic is perhaps a bit choppy, but it was a last-minute thing (I finished it at about 11 last night). All of Les Amis are featured (approximately) equally, although I could only list four in the characters. There are multiple relationships in this, the full list of which I will put here: ****Feuilly/Jehan, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta, Eponine/Montparnasse, Cosette/Marius, implied Valjean/Javert/Fantine, Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Bahorel/Bahorel's Laughing Mistress (Rosalie), Enjolras/Grantaire. They're listed here in order of appearance, not in terms of importance.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis.**

* * *

"Everyone had better remember the party at Enjy's house on Thursday!" Courfeyrac called as the meeting of Les Amis ended and everyone began to disperse.

"Don't call me Enjy," Enjolras muttered, but he was unheard over Grantaire's response.

"Right, the Christmas party," he called, grinning devilishly. Enjolras turned to face him angrily.

"It's a _non-denominational winter party_," he hissed. Grantaire arched an eyebrow.

"Then why is it on Christmas?" he asked, as if they hadn't gone over this approximately ten _thousand_ times before.

"Because that's the day Feuilly has off work," Enjolras replied in a low, dangerous voice. It was the voice that told everyone to stop arguing with him, because he had lost all patience and heads would roll. Grantaire had always seemed to take The Voice, as they all called it (capitals included), as a personal challenge.

"Whatever you say, Apollo," Grantaire replied with a wicked grin. "You'll be the one with the Santa hat, right?"

Joly and Bossuet were quick to drag Grantaire out of the café. Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, but Jehan put one of xyr fingers over his lips, shaking xyr head.

"It's the holidays, Enjolras," xe stated firmly, bundling into xyr coat as Feuilly waited for xem at the door. "We all know you're stressed from getting ready for the party, but that's no excuse to be cruel. Be nice."

"I'll be nice if he stays quiet," Enjolras muttered.

Everyone wisely decided to pretend they didn't hear that.

* * *

You see, none of Les Amis were particularly religious.

The triumvirate had all grown up in religious families - Enjolras' parents were Catholic, Combeferre's mother was Hindu, and Courfeyrac's parents were Jewish - but as adults, they were all fairly agnostic or atheist, depending on whom you asked. The point was that none of them was religious enough to care about having a specific holiday party for any holidays. Courfeyrac and Combeferre's apartment had a Menorah through all of Hanukkah for tradition's sake, and Combeferre always made traditional food for Diwali, but otherwise, they didn't do much in terms of religion. The rest of Les Amis was much the same.

And Enjolras had always still been very, _very_ clear that Les Amis was a secular organization. They didn't do anything with religion. Not at all. If any member wanted to do something religious on their own, they could, but not in the name of the group. Never in the name of the group.

The only (sort of) exception was the annual Non-Denominational Winter Party.

Every year, at Courfeyrac's Halloween Extravaganza (which was a name that was suggested as a joke and then actually stuck), they picked a name out of a hat to see who would host that year's Winter Party. It did often tend to fall on Christmas day, as no one had class or work on that day. It started in the afternoon and lasted all through the night (and occasionally into the next day). But it _wasn't a Christmas party_. Enjolras was very strict on that.

Grantaire knew it as well as everyone else; he just liked pissing Enjolras off.

That year, Enjolras had been the one randomly chosen to host the party. He had grumbled, but acquiesced in the end. His apartment was fairly large, after all, especially considering he didn't share with anyone. He had shared with Combeferre, but then when he had started dating Courfeyrac, he had moved in with him, and Enjolras had never bothered to move to a smaller apartment. His spare room was always open to anyone who needed it, which nearly every Ami had taken him up on. He had once put up Feuilly for two weeks until Jehan finally managed to convince him to just move into xyr apartment already, considering they _had_ been dating for nearly two months at that point and Jehan definitely had the room, with xyr large apartment. Two years later, they were still happily living together. Enjolras would never pretend to understand relationships.

But somehow, Enjolras had never been chosen to host the Christmas party before. The year before had been unforgettable, with Bossuet accidentally lighting his curtains on fire and having no clue how he managed it, and Joly keeping everyone in the house until the next morning because it was snowing outside and they could get sick, and Musichetta sitting back and laughing and providing more food and drinks through the night. But Enjolras hadn't hosted before, and everyone was a little curious as to how it would go.

Well, on Christmas day, they found out.

* * *

Jehan woke up early on Christmas morning. Xe had never been especially religious, although xe was fascinated by most religions, so Christmas was mostly just a day Feuilly had off. Considering there weren't many of those, Jehan always did xyr best to make them special.

On non-work days, Feuilly always slept in. However, for him, sleeping in meant sleeping until 8 or (once, when he was sick) 9, instead of getting up anywhere between 4:30 and 6:30, depending on the day of the week. Jehan, on the other hand, had such an erratic sleep schedule that xe could wake up anywhere from 4:30, to wish Feuilly a good day at work, to 11, at which point xe would have to hurry to make it to xyr first class. The only exceptions were days Feuilly had off, like Christmas.

Jehan woke up at 6 that morning, sneaking out of bed and into the kitchen. Xe could cook, although xe didn't do it that often. But Feuilly ate a granola bar basically every morning for breakfast, so when Jehan could cook for him, xe did.

And when xe cooked, xe went all out. Crêpes, made from scratch. Freshly-whipped cream. Fresh fruits from the farmers' market. Freshly-squeezed orange juice. Coffee, of course. Scrambled eggs and bacon. It was a big breakfast, but Feuilly was always hungry.

At eight o'clock precisely, Jehan put a flower in a vase, arranged the food on a tray, and went back to the bedroom. Feuilly was beginning to shift on the bed. He opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of Jehan in the doorway.

"Has one of Botticelli's angels escaped from its painting to cook me breakfast?" he asked, pushing himself upright as Jehan crossed to the bed with xyr tray.

"You sound like R," xe teased. Feuilly shrugged.

"I haven't had my coffee," he explained. Jehan handed him the mug and received a kiss in return.

"Is this all for me?" Feuilly asked, looking over the tray. Jehan nodded.

"I snacked while I cooked," xe replied, snuggling up next to Feuilly as he began to eat.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Feuilly asked, starting to eat. "I mean, I would sell my soul for this food, if that's what it took."

"All I require is your love and affection forever," Jehan teased. Feuilly grinned.

"I can deal with that."

* * *

Joly, who was almost always the first one awake, brought the computer back to bed with him after fetching green tea for himself, coffee for Musichetta, and hot chocolate for Bossuet. "Mmm, what time is it?" Bossuet groaned as he flopped into a vaguely upright position. Musichetta whined and grabbed at the blanket, pulling it over her head.

"Almost nine," Joly replied cheerfully, passing the hot chocolate to Bossuet and putting Musichetta's coffee on the bedside table. "Time to Skype my parents!"

"Ugh," Musichetta groaned, emerging from under the blanket. "Why so _early_?" she whined, but she perked up a little when Joly handed her the mug of coffee. She and Bossuet both woke up as they drank their respective beverages while Joly got the computer set up.

The morning Skype call with his parents was a Christmas tradition. None of them was very religious, Joly's parents included, but they did it on Christmas anyway. Bossuet's father was dead and his mother estranged, and Musichetta's parents hadn't spoken to her since she told them that she was dating not one person, but two. In light of that, Joly's parents has basically adopted Bossuet and Musichetta, to the extent where both had slipped up and referred to Joly's parents as their own. And so, each Christmas, they would Skype with Joly's parents in a call that would often go on for hours.

When Joly opened Skype, the icon showed that his parents were already on. He called them as Musichetta and Bossuet sat up and managed to wake themselves up enough to follow a conversation.

"Hey guys!" Joly cried as his parents faces appeared on the screen. "You should probably use small words. Bossuet and Musichetta just woke up." Immediately, both Bossuet and Musichetta hit Joly with their pillows in perfect sync. Joly was laughing too hard to really be annoyed.

_"Looks like you're having a fun morning,"_ Joly's mother remarked, smiling widely. Musichetta leaned across Joly to be in the center of the frame.

"This is a normal morning," she corrected. "Now we just need Bossuet to hit himself in the face with his own pillow-"

"Hey!" Bossuet protested, but he couldn't deny it.

"-And our morning will be complete."

_"Interesting life you have there,"_ Joly's father put in. Joly beamed at his parents.

"Enough about us! How's Avignon?"

The Skype call lasted for nearly three hours, moving from the bedroom to the kitchen so Musichetta could make breakfast as they talked. As far as Christmas traditions went, everyone involved thought it was a pretty good one.

* * *

"I have arrived!" Grantaire yelled as he entered the apartment. Azelma looked up from her book.

"Ép, R's here," she called.

"I can hear him," Éponine grumbled, wrapping herself in a bathrobe as she came out into the main room. "Are you ready to take the little monsters?"

"Sure, I've got them until I have to go to Apollo's for the party," Grantaire replied, nodding. "Where's Gav?"

"I'm here," Gavroche called, coming out of the kitchen. "What are we doing, R?"

"I was thinking we could go get something good for breakfast, then we could do something stupid like a snowball fight, just to get into the Christmas spirit or whatever," Grantaire replied with a shrug. "Any thoughts from you guys?"

"Snowball fights are stupid," Azelma complained, shrugging on her jacket. Grantaire grinned wickedly.

"That's the point," he replied. "Go back to Montparnasse, Éponine."

"How'd you know he was here?" Éponine asked, not bothering to deny it. Grantaire gestured at her neck.

"Hickey." Éponine rolled her eyes and returned to the bedroom, calling a farewell over her shoulder as she did so.

"So what are we _really_ gonna do?" Gavroche asked as they left the apartment. Grantaire grinned.

"I've got a couple ideas."

* * *

"Are they gone?" Montparnasse asked, pushing himself upright in the bed. Éponine crawled in next to him.

"R came and took the kids," she replied, leaning on his chest. "He knew you were here, though. You left a hickey, asshole."

"What can I say?" Montparnasse purred, sliding his hands under Éponine's bathrobe. "I like marking you."

"I think I'll have to mark you in return," Éponine whispered, dropping kisses on Montparnasse's collarbone. He hissed in a shallow breath when she locked her mouth on his neck, sucking on the delicate skin. When she was done, she pulled away and nipped at the newly-formed mark. Montparnasse hissed again, grabbing Éponine and flipping her under him.

Nearly an hour later, they finally got out of bed and went out to the kitchen. Éponine started the coffee maker while Montparnasse checked the contents of the fridge, pulling out eggs and various vegetables.

"Are you going to go to the party this afternoon?" he asked Éponine quietly as he began to make an omelet for them. Éponine sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Will Marius be there?" Éponine's silence was answer enough. "Ponine, don't do this to yourself. He'll be there with Cosette, and-"

"The others will all be there too!" Éponine protested. "It's not about him, Parnasse. Anyway, Gav and Zelma want to go, and I can't exactly send them alone."

"Azelma's sixteen years old," Montparnasse argued. "And they'll be surrounded by adults. I think they'll be fine."

"Oh come on, you know that none of them can deal with Gav at all, except maybe R and Bahorel, and sometimes Courf," Éponine countered. "I'm not going to subject them to that on _Christmas_."

"So you're going to subject yourself to seeing Marius and Cosette? On Christmas, as you reminded us?" Montparnasse took Éponine's arms gently and looked her in the eye. "You're doing so well," he whispered. "Please, Éponine."

"Come with me, if you're so worried," Éponine countered. Montparnasse abruptly dropped her arms.

"I haven't been invited," he replied cautiously. Éponine shrugged.

"You can be my plus-one. Come on, Parnasse, no one will care. Come with me. Be my date."

"I thought we didn't do dating," Montparnasse countered. Éponine grinned, taking his hands in her own.

"Maybe we should."

The omelet almost burned, but neither of them really cared.

* * *

"So," Grantaire stated as he drank his Irish coffee that was more Irish than coffee, "you know how I sometimes teach fencing at the gym down the street?"

"Yeah," Gavroche replied as he and Azelma attacked their crêpes (because they weren't eating them, they were definitely attacking them). "What about it?"

"Well, I have a key to the place, and it's empty today. Unless, that is, you two want me to give you a fencing lesson."

"Really?" Gavroche asked, looking up with wide eyes. Azelma looked excited as well, although she tried to mask it; she was currently in a phase that made her think that acting excited about things wasn't cool. Éponine had tried to convince her otherwise to no avail; it was just something she'd have to grow out of.

"Do you want me to?" Grantaire asked, grinning widely as both kids nodded. Gavroche had wanted to take fencing lessons ever since he had first seen Grantaire fence nearly two years ago, but Éponine had always strictly forbidden it, saying Gavroche was enough of a pain when he didn't know how to use a sword. Grantaire knew it was really about the money, but Éponine refused to allow him to give Gavroche free lessons. Grantaire had known she was too proud to allow it, but he'd asked anyway. Azelma had mentioned a few times that she thought it looked fun too, but she'd never actually asked for lessons.

But it was Christmas, and Éponine couldn't begrudge Grantaire doing something fun for the kids.

There was equipment in the gym that fit both Gavroche and Azelma, so Grantaire helped them set up as he put on his own equipment. "Can we do boxing next time?" Gavroche asked as he tried to wiggle into the pants. "This outfit is stupid."

"Oh, quit whining," Grantaire retorted, helping Gavroche into the pants. Azelma had gotten herself into the equipment already and was looking at the foils. "Pick one out," Grantaire called to her. She jumped, looking over at him.

"Which one?"

"Whichever one feels the best in your hand," Grantaire replied, pulling his own foil out of his bag. Azelma tried out a few foils before finally deciding on one. Gavroche just grabbed the first on he touched.

"You guys ready?" Grantaire asked, sliding seamlessly into position. Azelma and Gavroche nodded. "Okay, mimic me."

The lesson probably didn't actually teach the kids too much - there were too many pranks on Gavroche's part to allow for that - but they had fun, and that had been what Grantaire wanted.

After all, he supposed, kids ought to have fun on Christmas.

* * *

"Okay, repeat it back to me," Cosette told Marius as she drove away from their apartment.

"We're going to your family home, which is owned by your adoptive father," Marius replied dutifully. "He lives there with your birth mom and the police officer who pursued him for…breaking parole?"

"Good so far," Cosette replied, stopping at a red light. "Names?"

"Your adoptive father is Jean Valjean, your birth mom is Fantine, and the police officer's last name Javert but I can't remember his first name."

"It's okay, everyone calls him Javert anyway," Cosette replied dismissively. "Anything else?"

"Are they all…together?" Marius asked cautiously. Cosette shrugged.

"I've never asked. I think they probably are, but they've never said anything either way. Does it matter?"

"No!" Marius replied quickly. Cosette nodded once.

"Good. Alright, it's just around the bend here."

The house was huge. Marius was used to big houses, considering he had lived in one back when he still lived with his grandfather, but it was still a bit surprising to see that Cosette's family lived in one that big.

"Ready?" Cosette asked, smoothing down Marius' collar before sliding out of the car.

"I think so," Marius replied, taking Cosette's arm as they went to the door. Cosette laughed.

"It's just a Christmas brunch, Marius. Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out!" Marius protested. Then the door was opened by a tall, muscular man who looked at Marius as if he would like nothing more than to kill him and bake him into a pie.

"Javert!" Cosette cried, reaching forward and hugging him. "It's lovely to see you. Merry Christmas!" She pulled away, dragging Marius forward. "This is Marius, my boyfriend."

"Pleasure," Javert ground out. Marius gulped.

Okay, maybe he was freaking out just a little.

* * *

"Combe_ferre_!" Courfeyrac sang out at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. "It's Christmas!"

"Wonderful," Combeferre groaned, pulling the comforter over his head. "But considering neither of us _celebrate_ Christmas, why does that matter?"

"Tonight is the party!" Courfeyrac cried, throwing himself on top of Combeferre. All of the breath in Combeferre's lungs was forced out with a _whoosh_. "We need to start on the food!"

"At seven in the morning?" Combeferre complained. "I don't even have coffee."

"Says who?" Courfeyrac replied, picking up a mug from the bedside table. Combeferre downed half of it before he was alert enough to truly use his brain.

'You're not normally this much of a morning person," he told Courfeyrac warily. "How many cups have you had?"

"Oh, not too many," Courfeyrac replied airily. Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "Maybe four. But Ferre, we need to get everything ready for the party, and we can't do that while we're sleeping!"

"How are you real?" Combeferre groaned, but he got out of bed as he said it and threw on a t-shirt. Courfeyrac jumped and clapped - he literally jumped in the air and clapped like a delighted child. Combeferre had known him for years and he still sometimes had trouble believing that Courfeyrac was an actual human being.

Some of that might also have been the exhaustion talking.

After Combeferre finished his cup of coffee and started on a second one, he was awake enough to start cooking. "What are we making?"

"Definitely a couple of pizzas," Courfeyrac replied, pulling things out of cabinets. The two of them always got stuck with the cooking for the Christmas party, regardless of who was hosting it; the week before, they would set up a collection jar in the Musain for the grocery fund, considering the party required insane amounts of food. "Ooh, and we should make a pie!"

"Other actual foods?" Combeferre prompted.

"We can do vegetables and dip, and we can do a casserole, and…" Combeferre grinned as he began to get out the ingredients for the pizza dough, only half listening to Courfeyrac's stream of consciousness.

This would be a long day, as it was every year, but as long as he was spending it in the kitchen with Courfeyrac, he didn't really mind.

* * *

"Merry Christmas," Rosalie said lazily, rolling over in bed to face Bahorel.

"Merry Christmas," he replied, grinning at her. "Although neither of us really celebrate Christmas, so…"

"Oh, don't be such a Scrooge," Rosalie retorted, shoving at Bahorel's shoulder, the grin on her face detracting somewhat from her scolding.

"Bah, humbug," Bahorel replied with a smirk. Rosalie rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep in a soft giggle.

"What are we going to do this morning?" she asked. Bahorel shrugged.

"We've got the party this afternoon, remember," he told her. "But other than that, there's nothing."

"Should we do something festive?" Rosalie asked. Bahorel arched an eyebrow.

"For a holiday we don't celebrate?" he countered. Rosalie shrugged.

"Christmas festivities sound fun. And we've got the party anyway. I think going to a Christmas party counts as celebrating."

"Don't let Enjolras hear you," Bahorel warned. He made an angry face that looked nothing like Enjolras, but had the right idea. "It's not a Christmas party!" he growled in an angry voice that was higher than his own. It sounded nothing like Enjolras, but Bahorel wasn't known for his mimicry skills. "It's a _non-denominational winter party_. Calling it a Christmas party is as bad as voting _Republican_." Rosalie could stop giggling, not that she often stopped giggling. There was a reason everyone had called her "Bahorel's laughing girlfriend" before they'd learned her name.

"He's not that bad!" Rosalie protested. Bahorel gave her a disbelieving look. "Okay, maybe he is, but that's a terrible imitation."

"Only the best for you, babe," Bahorel replied, dropping a quick kiss on Rosalie's lips. She rolled her eyes, giggling as she did so.

"So, something festive?" she prompted. Bahorel shrugged.

"No clue. I've never really done Christmas stuff."

"We do have those ornaments we're supposed to bring to Enjolras' apartment later," Rosalie suggested.

"And no where to put them," Bahorel countered. Rosalie made a face, considering he was right.

"However," Bahorel began slowly, an idea coming to mind, "if we had sex, but I tied you to the bed with tinsel instead of a scarf or something…" Rosalie dissolved into giggles. "No, I'm serious!" Bahorel protested. "Festive sex!"

"Won't the tinsel be really uncomfortable?" Rosalie asked, a look of skepticism crossing her face under the giggles she was still having trouble stopping.

"We can get those gloves Jehan made you last year and you can wear those to keep the tinsel from scratching your skin," Bahorel replied. "Should we try it out?"

"You just really went festive sex, don't you?" Rosalie asked, raising an eyebrow. Bahorel grinned.

"I just want sex. I'm adding the festive bit so you're more likely to agree to it." Rosalie laughed.

"I'd agree whether it was festive or not," she replied in a confidential tone. Bahorel's grin widened.

"Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, getting up. Rosalie watched him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting the tinsel," Bahorel replied, turning back with a smirk. "You didn't think I was joking, did you?"

Rosalie laughed helplessly the entire time Bahorel went out to get the tinsel.

Their "festive sex" was definitely interesting.

* * *

Enjolras wasn't quite sure what he was doing.

No, scratch that, he had _no idea_ what he was doing. He'd never hosted the Winter Party before, and for good reason. In fact, he'd never hosted any sort of party before, ever. In the past, he'd managed to sneak his name out of the hat they used to pick the host of the party, but this year, he hadn't managed it. Of course, that would be the year he was actually picked. Combeferre had decided that they were going to pick the name earlier than usual, before Enjolras had managed to get to the hat. Enjolras blamed him 100% for having to host.

As the host, there wasn't actually _that_ much he had to do. He had to get a tree, but Courfeyrac had already taken care of that. (He'd tried to complain about the tree in the past as being too Christian, but he'd been overruled - it was originally a pagan symbol, and it was a symbol of the season, and if they didn't have a tree the party would be _ruined_. He hated Courfeyrac's puppy dog eyes, but he couldn't deny them.) He didn't have to make any food - that was Combeferre and Courfeyrac's department. He didn't have to get ornaments or anything - the group had their own ornaments, which Bahorel and Rosalie were going to bring over. And he'd already gotten the presents for the others, so all he really had to do was clean up. And considering his apartment was normally clean, that didn't take much.

The only problem was that, in years past, there had been decorations already set up when everyone arrived at the party. And Enjolras didn't exactly _have_ any of those. He normally didn't decorate at all. On the morning of the Winter Party, he would just do his own work. And now, he had to prepare for a party and he hated it.

Then he found a box in his closet that certainly hadn't been there before.

Enjolras opened it up to find decorations - snowflakes and stars and lights and tinsel. It seemed he had some work to do.

It took way too much time, and anyone else - literally _anyone else _\- probably could have done it better, but at least the decorations were up. Honestly, it was more than anyone had been expecting.

* * *

The party started without a hitch. The tree decorating went fine, although the tinsel Bahorel and Rosalie were supposed to bring had apparently gone missing. The food was delicious, as always. Then came the present exchange.

The Les Amis present exchange was a time-honored tradition, but it had strict rules. Considering the disparity in wealth in the group, the gifts all had a price limit. For most of Les Amis, that meant creativity was involved.

Jehan always knit things. That year, xe had made everyone scarves and hats in their favorite colors. Somehow, all the measurements were perfect, but considering that had been the same for years in a row, no one questioned it.

Feuilly once again charmed everyone with his chocolate-dipped pretzels, which were simple but ridiculously addicting. The first year, he had tried giving out larger portions to the various couples (and threesome), but after Bahorel and Rosalie almost came to blows over the last one, he decided that was a bad idea.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac did their usual mix of ethnic foods - sufganiyah and latka from Courfeyrac, and gulab jamun and khaja from Combeferre. Everyone had long since come to the consensus that the foods were unfairly delicious.

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta did different things every year, but this year they had made homemade peach jam for everyone. Bossuet, apparently, had been allowed to do nothing more than pick the peaches, considering giving him a knife wasn't a good idea. Joly assured everyone that the jars they bought were entirely hygienic.

Marius and Cosette made fudge - or, more accurately, Cosette made fudge and Marius put it in the boxes. It was delicious either way. The recipe, Cosette claimed, was her mother's, and she refused to share it with anyone. That wasn't to say they hadn't tried.

Éponine arrived with Montparnasse and the kids and gave out homemade cookies she had made with Gavroche and Azelma the day before. Courfeyrac complained that they were all going to get hideously fat from all the food, but when Combeferre offered to eat his cookies for him, he shrieked and hid them under his sweater, so he obviously didn't care that much.

Grantaire gave everyone a Mason jar on which he had written their name in beautiful calligraphy. He had also added little designs to every one. Enjolras' had a French flag being carried by an anthropomorphized cup of coffee, with the inscription "a combination of your two loves."

Bahorel and Rosalie, as always, had ridiculously cheesy but also perfect gifts. Everyone's was different; Musichetta got flavored condoms she pocked with a wink, Joly got a plague doctor mask, Jehan got a Hello Kitty notebook, and so on. The gifts were ridiculous, but always somehow just right.

Enjolras never knew what to do for gifts, so he went back to his old standby - books. He always bought them second-hand, so as not to exceed the price limit, but he never felt it was quite as intimate as the others. Everyone seemed to enjoy them anyway.

* * *

As the night went on, Grantaire took it upon himself to sing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs. Enjolras was going to light him on fire if he didn't stop singing about roasting chestnuts. "I'll show you an open fire," he muttered, jerking upright. Everyone took a wary step back.

And then, to the surprise of all, Enjolras decided the best way to shut Grantaire up was to kiss him.

"What-" Grantaire protested when Enjolras finally pulled away, his eyes wide.

"Shh," Enjolras hissed, suddenly looking at all of his feelings about Grantaire in a different light. He wasn't sure quite why he had kissed him, but now that he had, it seemed to have opened the flood gates and he _really _wanted to kiss him again. With shock on his face, he turned to him. "I think I like you."

"What?" Grantaire squeaked.

"Do you not…" Enjolras froze. He thought, from the way Grantaire had responded to the kiss, that the feelings were reciprocated but…

"You're the most ridiculous person I've ever met," Grantaire stated firmly. "I've liked you for _years_."

"Do you want to go on a date with me?" Enjolras asked hesitantly.

"Oh, god_damn_ it!" Courfeyrac yelled as Grantaire nodded, still looking slightly unsure as to whether or not this was actually happening. "You couldn't have waited until after New Year's?"

"Pay up," Combeferre replied smugly. Enjolras watched with wide eyes as Courfeyrac pulled out his wallet and handed Combeferre a twenty dollar bill.

"You two bet on us?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire coughed.

"I don't think it was just them," he muttered. All around the room, money was exchanging hands. Enjolras looked around in shock.

"Oh, come on," Jehan protested as xe handed Feuilly his winnings. "You can't expect us _not_ to bet on it. You were so obvious!"

"We were not" both Enjolras and Grantaire cried in unison. Jehan cooed.

"You're so cute," xe replied, patting Grantaire on the cheek.

And that was that.

* * *

After the party was over, Combeferre lingered longer than the others, helping Enjolras put things away.

"Did you enjoy hosting?" he asked. Enjolras thought about the question for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, I did," he replied. In all honesty, it had been much more fun than he'd been expecting. "It was much nicer than I thought it would be."

"Good," Combeferre replied. "The hat was rigged, you know."

"What?" Enjolras cried, jerking upright and very nearly taking down the tree with him. "What do you mean, rigged?"

"I rigged it," Combeferre replied calmly. "Every slip of paper in it had your name on it."

"You…you… That's not very democratic!" Enjolras spluttered. "Does Courf know?"

"No one knows but the two of us," Combeferre replied, still picking up paper plates around the room.

"I don't think Courf will be very happy to find out," Enjolras retorted. Combeferre shrugged.

"Nor would he be very happy to find out that you've been taking your name out of the hat for years," he replied. Enjolras froze. "You weren't exactly sneaky. But it's alright. I'm the only one who knows." Combeferre clapped a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "Don't do it again."

"You're terrifying," Enjolras stated. Combeferre's eyes sparkled behind his glasses.

"See you tomorrow."

As Combeferre let himself out, Enjolras looked around the room. The party had been crazy, but he had enjoyed it.

Perhaps he was pleased he'd hosted after all.


End file.
